


Before School Special

by Blood_On_Glass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Belly Rubs, Burping, Castiel's sensitive tummy, Dean has a rough childhood, Destiel - Freeform, Don't Read This, Emetophilia, High School AU, I love tummies, M/M, Sick!Castiel, Vomiting, emeto, for abuse, i love puke, if you don't, maybe trigger warnings, puking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 17:10:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11406849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blood_On_Glass/pseuds/Blood_On_Glass
Summary: Castiel can make it through the first period of class. At least, that's what he tells himself. Sure he feels like his stomach is trying to escape his body from his mouth, but he can make it. Dean, however, disagrees.





	Before School Special

**Author's Note:**

> Castiel puke gives me life. That is all.

Beep. Beep. Beep. The second the alarm went off, Castiel knew it was going to be a rough day. Not that he had actually been asleep before it went off. In fact, he had woken up a couple of hours ago when his stomach starting doing flips. He had managed to keep last night’s dinner down through the late hours of the night, but he wasn’t sure how he would fare while getting ready for school. The logical thing to do would be to stay home, of course. However, it was Friday, and he had a rather strict biology teacher that didn’t accept assignments that were done in class on any other day. He knew they were doing a few that would prep them for the upcoming test, and he couldn’t miss it. So, he decided to suck it up, and face the day. 

Slowly, his arm reached out from underneath his blanket, and he turned the alarm off. He laid there for a moment, his eyes looking up at the ceiling while his hand rested on his stomach. He was wearing one of Dean’s t-shirts that he had borrowed a while ago and had never returned. Oops. Not that Dean minded, of course. In fact, the usually gruff and stoic boy lit up whenever he saw Castiel wearing something of his. Castiel usually wore Dean’s stuff to just sleep in, since they were quite big on him due to his thin frame and Dean’s muscular one, and also he could only imagine the looks on people’s faces if he were to show up in a band t-shirt. It was definitely different than his usual outfit which always consisted of a collared shirt under a type of sweater or sweater vest. Not that he minded the way Dean dressed, but he himself would rather go out in public looking a little more… put together. 

 

After about three minutes of wasting time in bed, Castiel knew he needed to get up. Slowly, he sat up in his bed, his hand gently pressed up against his stomach as if doing so would keep the contents in while he moved around. He felt his stomach gurgle and shift underneath his palm, and he hiccuped softly as some of the trapped air tried to escape him. He was raised with more manners than that, and couldn’t even remember the last time he had allowed himself to burp out loud. He always did while he threw up -- which according to Dean, was too often -- but that couldn’t really be stopped. However, he would never just sit around and burp at any time. His mother would be offended beyond belief, and she had enough bad manners to deal with when Gabriel came back from college to visit. 

Castiel hiccuped again, and he quickly put a hand to his mouth. He sat there for a few seconds, his eyes shut as he concentrated on not letting air escape… or something else. That would be even worse. He stood after a while and shuffled over to his closet, slipping the Metallica Master of Puppets shirt off of himself. When the oversized shirt was removed, Castiel looked down at himself and groaned. It wasn’t too obvious, but his stomach was normally very flat, so it was easy to notice the slight bloat. He gently rubbed his bare tummy for a few seconds, hoping it didn’t get any worse. Dean would definitely notice if he showed up to school looking like he was pregnant. To prevent that, Castiel chose a blue sweater that was a little looser than the others, and he didn’t bother to put a shirt on under it. He looked down at himself, and he knew if his stomach got any bigger, it would definitely be noticeable. 

Castiel finished getting ready for school, and he shuffled downstairs, sighing softly. His mom was going to bombard him with questions, because he knew he was later to breakfast than usual. She was at the table already like always, ready for work while his father sat next to her. His little brother Alfie was in his highchair, playing with his mushed carrots. Usually, the sight would be cute, but today Castiel wasn’t feeling well enough to find it appealing in the slightest. He swallowed thickly, looking at the food smeared all over his brother’s face and hair. He turned away just as his mom spoke up. “Do you realize what time it is, young man?” she demanded. “The bus came by already.”

Castiel frowned looking at the clock. It came at 7:20. What was she talking about? However his stomach turned impossibly more when he saw that it was almost 7:30. “Oh.” Was all he managed to say as he slumped down in the chair at the table. “Sorry. I slept through my alarm.” 

Castiel’s mother looked at him, a frown deepening. “Chuck,” she began, glancing over at her husband who was typing away at his computer. “Does Cas look a little off to you?” Of course she would start talking about him like he wasn’t there. She always did that. 

His dad didn’t look up from the book he was working on when he answered. “He looks fine, dear. You just worry too much. I think a holiday would do you some good.” 

For some reason, the half-answer seemed enough for his mom, despite the fact that his dad hadn’t even bothered to look. Not that Castiel was complaining, because he really didn't want to sit there while they both observed them. “Well, alright,” she said slowly. She looked back at Castiel, her eyebrow raised. “Well Anna is already on the bus for the elementary school. She actually managed to get down here on time. Your father will have to take you today. In the meantime, eat something.” 

Castiel knew his mom was going to force food down his throat, but he still wasn’t able to prepare himself for the moment of food going inside of his stomach. To avoid suspicion, Castiel reached for a piece of toast and began nibbling on it. He was never super hungry in the mornings anyway, so he knew his mom wouldn’t suspect anything. “Dean can drive me,” he suggested quietly, not feeling well enough to speak at full volume. He made sure to eat as slowly as possible so avoid getting even more gassy. He kept a hand lightly on his stomach under the table out of sight from his mother’s suspicious gaze. 

“Because spending time in that Impala will do wonders for your asthma,” his mother responded coolly, taking a drink of her coffee. It was a bite towards Dean’s smoking habits that his mother hated, but they all knew there was nothing anyone could do about it at this point. Castiel knew his mom actually really liked Dean and had become a bit motherly over him since Mary Winchester’s death just a few years ago. Still, the habits he had picked up after the incident bothered her. Mostly the smoking and occasional drinking. 

“I haven’t had an asthma attack in years,” he reminded him mom. “And I always carry around my inhaler anyway. Dean wouldn’t do anything to actually harm me.” 

That seemed to be enough for his mother and she nodded slowly. “Call him, then. I don’t want either of you to be late.” 

 

At 7:45, Castiel was sitting on the front porch, waiting for the familiar sound of Dean’s beloved Chevy Impala. He didn’t have to wait outside, but it wasn’t really cold out, and he had gotten tired of his mother’s look every time he so much as softly hiccuped. He sat up straight, a hand sliding underneath his shirt to rub at his upset stomach. There was a dull cramping all around his belly, but the worst part was the nausea. He let a soft groan escape his lips as he slouched against the porch steps, no longer having the energy to keep his posture. The slouched position made the feeling in his stomach significantly worse, though. The excess saliva in his mouth was starting to make him feel worse, and he leaned forward, spitting into the grass a few times. However, the moment he heard a car rolling up followed by muffled sounds of classic rock, Castiel straightened and watched the Impala roll up to the front of the house. Castiel grabbed his bag and slowly stood, his stomach and chest jumping as he hiccuped once again. Castiel would be worried about it if it weren’t for the fact that Dean had the table manners of a tasmanian devil. 

Like always, when Castiel opened the door, he was hit by an intense smell of smoke and tobacco. He took a small step back, the smell not necessarily disgusting enough to make the feeling in his stomach worse, but powerful enough to make him wince. “Dean,” he complained before slowly climbing in. His stomach rebelled at the movement, but he ignored it. “Are you trying to be the youngest person to die from lung cancer?” Castiel closed the door, glad the sound of it shutting mixed with the music made his hiccup inaudible. 

Dean turned down the music, looking over at Castiel with his usual cocky grin. “That’d be quite the achievement, huh? Nah. Just a rough morning is all.” 

For Dean, a ‘rough morning’ probably consisted of his dad throwing beer bottles at his head, screaming at him and calling him mean names. “Great. Your stress will be very much relieved when you get--” Castiel cut himself off with a loud hiccup, and he quickly put a hand to his mouth, a deep blush covering his cheeks. He swallowed a couple of times, not being able to bring himself to look at Dean. 

“That sound wasn’t even close to sounding human,” Dean remarked. He glanced over at Castiel, his eyebrow raised. “You feeling okay, Cas? You’re looking a bit green. Literally. You haven’t had the stomach flu in a whole two months, so I guess it’s ‘bout time for it to come back around.” 

Of course Dean was making a remark about Castiel’s frequent bouts of various illnesses. It wasn’t his fault he had a weak immune system. Castiel pouted slightly, crossing his arms. “It was food poisoning last time and that’s because I’ve got a sensitive stomach.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean muttered as he pulled away from the house. “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything that your stomach has agreed with. You know, I’m surprised I ain’t seen ya blow chunks yet. You’re always sick with somethin’ at least.”

Castiel frowned at his boyfriend and hit his arm gently. “Don’t be mean,” he complained, but he wasn’t actually mad. “Because when I’m sick, I stay home. Unlike you.” Dean didn’t get sick often, but when he did, it was always pretty bad. Dean didn’t care much for school, but he hated home even more unless Sam was there. Castiel had seen Dean come to school with fevers that would normally hospitalize people. Castiel knew he, on the other hand, got sick often and it was never that bad. He knew how to rest and eat properly when he wasn’t feeling well, and he took whatever medicine he needed to. Dean liked to ‘power through’ things which always ended up with him getting something like pneumonia. Castiel had never seen Dean throw up, either, but the boy once claimed that it was ‘messy and unattractive’ so he didn’t do it. Right. If only it was that easy. 

“So you are sick?” Dean asked, looking over at him for just a second as he drove. Castiel wished he would just keep his eyes on the road, but Dean wasn’t known for being the safest driver in the world. “Why the hell are you going to school then?”

Castiel opened his mouth, but shut it again, swallowing back another burp. He waited a few seconds before sighing softly. “I have biology stuff.” 

Dean scoffed, digging a cigarette out of his leather jacket pocket and sticking it in his mouth. “Don’t be fucking ridiculous. Take care of yourself. Your health should come first.” Dean lit his cancer stick, rolling down the window so the smoke wouldn’t blow in Castiel’s face. 

“Coming from the boy who winds up with pneumonia after catching every cold,” Castiel muttered. He turned his head and looked out the window, hoping it would help his increasing nausea die down. Dean would never forgive him if he puked in his precious car. 

“What can I say?” Dean chuckled. “I’m just a drama queen.” 

 

They arrived at the school at 8:00, just like always, giving them fifteen minutes to get ready for first period before the bell rang. By the time they reached the school, Castiel had completely slumped against the door, his seatbelt disregarded as it was putting uncomfortable pressure on his queasy belly. Dean never wore his seatbelt, but Castiel always wore his. The moment he unclicked it, he knew Dean would realize how awful he was feeling. 

“I can take you back home,” Dean suggested, reaching over and resting a hand on his arm. Dean’s voice had softened a great deal, probably realizing Castiel wasn’t feeling well at all. He rubbed Castiel’s arm up and down, and Castiel closed his eyes at the comforting touch. 

“Got biology stuff,” Castiel murmured, swallowing thickly. His chest jumped a bit again as he hiccuped, and he put a hand to his mouth, swallowing thickly. He felt Dean’s hand stop moving across his arm. 

“Do you want some ginger ale or somethin’, sweetheart?” Dean asked gently, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “And I would just like to add that class ain’t worth going to school like this.” 

Ginger ale? No. Ginger ale would only make him burp, which was what he was trying to avoid doing. He shook his head, lifting it off the window, and looking over at Dean. “I’m okay,” he told Dean. “I can make it through first period, and then I’ll call my dad.” 

Dean sighed, but didn’t say anything further on the matter. He turned off his car and reached behind him and grabbed his backpack. “Probably won’t make it the whole day, either. I ain’t sick or nothing, but I don’t see myself sitting through a whole day of school. To me s…. So I don’t… I…” Everything Dean was saying now was fading in and out as Castiel put all of his attention towards the shifting that was occurring in his stomach. He no longer had a clue what Dean was talking about as he sat forehead, concentrating on his rebelling stomach. “Cas… Cas… Castiel?” 

 

Castiel looked up when he realized Dean was calling his name. He flushed at being caught in such a distracted state of mind. “Sorry?” he asked softly, looking at Dean. “What were you talking about?” 

Dean’s green eyes narrowed slightly, and Castiel knew the other boy was now studying him more than before. He needed to look natural then, before Dean kept worrying. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay in first period?” Dean asked him, looking skeptical. “I don’t think you going in there like this would do you much good.”

Castiel didn’t agree. Even if he just got one thing out of class today, it would be worthwhile. He opened his mouth to argue, but then something else came instead of words. The second his mouth was opening, he felt his body jump with a violent hiccup. However, this time, it was followed by a soft burp. It was small sounding, and about as delicate as they could get. Still Castiel flushed a deep red and he looked down. “Excuse me,” he whispered.

Dean raised an eyebrow. He had known Castiel for years now, and he had never heard the other boy burp. Castiel felt the rough, calloused hands cup his cheek, and suddenly Castiel was looking him in the eye. “Cas,” Dean began slowly, running a hand through the dark hair. “You’re stomach ain’t feeling good. You don’t need to be embarrassed. Let it do what it’s gotta do. You’ll feel better.” 

Castiel doubted belching would make the queasiness go away. Besides, he didn’t want to start bad habits that he might bring home to his mother. Castiel bit his lip and shook his head, his cheeks still red with embarrassment. “I can’t, De,” he whined. Castiel rested his elbow against the door and rested his forehead against his hand. The other hand was on his stomach, trying to coax it to calm down. “It hurts,” he whispered, feeling the tears well in his eyes. The cramps were getting significantly worse now which also made the nausea increase. 

Dean was quick to act and he gently pulled Castiel’s hand away from the bloated stomach, ignoring his small noise of protest as he did so. “Hey, you holding in your gas is only going to make your stomach hurt more,” Dean pointed out. “Lemme help you. You know I won’t judge you.” Dean placed his own hand on Castiel’s stomach and began to rub in soothing circles, light enough to not make his boyfriend sick, but hard enough to hopefully coax the gas bubbles out. 

Fed up with the pain he was experiencing, Castiel knew he didn’t want to hold it in anymore. He felt the gas bubbles rise to his throat and this time, he released them. “Urrp”. It was a soft and small one, and he heard Dean chuckle from behind him. 

“You’re the only one who can make burping delicate,” he remarked. He found a new spot on Castiel’s belly and he slowly worked his hands into the tight spot. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve got a lot of gas in here.” 

“I kn-- urrrrrp --”. Castiel’s face turned bright red again as this one was much louder and longer. He put his hand to his mouth, burping into it once more twice. 

 

Dean was starting to get worried at this point. The bloating in Castiel’s stomach was starting to go down slightly, but it was clear the nausea wasn’t subsiding. “Cas, sweetheart,” Dean began carefully watching as Castiel let out a series of queasy belches into his hand -- these ones sounding significantly wetter. “I think we gotta let you throw up and then I’m gonna take you home.” 

Castiel felt himself begin to get worked up. He hated throwing up more than anything. “I’ll be -- urrrrrrrrp -- fine, De. I just gotta -- urrrrrrrrrp -- wait it out.” Castiel hiccuped again, and this time the burp that followed was small but very sick sounding. Dean could hear it splash the back of Castiel’s throat and the smaller boy brought his hand up to his mouth, making a soft gagging noise. “I don’t want to -- hic-urrrrrp -- throw up, Dean.” Tears were sliding down his cheeks now and he gagged again. 

“Don’t get so worked up,” Dean told him softly. His hand was still on Castiel’s stomach, but he didn’t dare rub it at this point, knowing the pressure would make Castiel sick in a split second. “You’re making your stomach feel worse. Just calm down.” Dean knew Castiel was close to throwing up, though and there wasn’t anything that could be done about it at this point. Dean looked around his car for something Castiel could throw up in so he wouldn’t have to throw up in the parking lot in front of all everyone. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a container of any sort. Dean grabbed a big, thick blanket that he used to cover his car up in the winter. He folded it up sloppily and brought it up front, putting it in Castiel’s lap. It was thick enough that it shouldn’t leak and he could just toss it out in the dumpster behind them. 

 

“De,” Castiel whined, sniffing. “I can’t throw up on your stuff.” 

Dean moved his hand from Castiel’s stomach to his back and gently eased Castiel into a hunching position so he was leaning over the blanket. The movement coaxed another belch out of the boy, but at this point Castiel was clearly beyond caring. “It’s just a blanket, Cas. I can get another one.”

 

“But, Dean --”

“No buts. Just relax, Castiel.” 

Castiel sniffed as he leaned over the dirty blanket. His lip was stuck out in a pout and tears were in his eyes again. Starting the process was always hard. It got easier as he got going, but this was the part he couldn’t deal with. Saliva was pooling his mouth and he opened it slightly and let himself drool over the blanket. It was an act that would normally humiliate him, but at this point, he didn’t care. Besides, he was fortunate enough to have the most understanding boyfriend in the whole world. 

Dean was carding his fingers through Castiel’s dark hair, hoping to bring him some comfort as he went through this. He grabbed an old, but clean, fast food napkin from the inside door pocket and wiped away a long string of saliva that Castiel was having a hard times spitting out. “You’re doing great,” he whispered, rubbing Castiel’s back. 

Castiel gagged again, bringing up nothing, but he knew he was close. He had to stop himself from instinctively swallowing, knowing he needed to just get this over with. More saliva pooled out of his mouth onto the blanket and he shuddered softly. 

Dean put his hand back on Castiel’s stomach as he watched his boyfriend struggle. He felt the bloated belly move as Castiel gagged, lurching roughly. He gently rubbed it, careful to not put any pressure on it. Castiel gagged again, this time letting out a soft whine. “It’s not coming,” he mumbled miserably. He gagged and spit again, before moaning. “I just wanna get it over with.” Tears were welling in his eyes again as he gagged roughly. Dean could feel how hard Castiel’s stomach was working underneath his palm. The contents were shifting and it was lurching uncontrollably. Still, nothing was coming up. 

Remembering how close Castiel came to throwing up as he belched, Dean had an idea. “I’m gonna help you throw up, okay?” he said gently, still stroking Castiel’s belly. Castiel nodded in agreement, so Dean took action. He began to add pressure to his boyfriend’s tummy, and listened as it let out an audible grumble. The gas bubbles were making a reappearance and Dean could feel them flutter under his palm. He slowly slid Castiel’s sweater up so his hand was directly on Castiel’s belly. He pressed down and began to rub in circles. 

 

“De -- Urrrrrrrrrp”. It clearly worked as he was getting Castiel to belch again. His boyfriend’s cheeks puffed out and he let out another small puff of air. “Oooohhhh -- urrrrrrrp.” The last one was once again bringing stuff up to the back of Castiel’s throat, and for good, pressure, Dean pressed down on Castiel’s sick stomach one more time. 

It happened quicker than either of them expected. Castiel was belching again, but it was cut off as his stomach contents were coming up his throat and flooding into his mouth. Castiel gagged as he released the mouthful of light brown vomit onto the blanket. Dean wiped his mouth again as a trickle of the brown sick was hanging from his lips. Castiel gagged gain, bringing up another torrent of puke, this time relieved that it was coming up easier. 

Dean rubbed Castiel’s belly though the whole ordeal, gently whispering to Castiel as he got sick. “That’s it,” he said. “You’re doing great. You’re almost finished.”

Castiel burped again, and this time only a small mouthful came up. He was clearly almost empty. He hadn’t thought he had so much in his stomach to begin with. The amount that came out of him was surprising. Castiel gagged and spit again before straightening up, not daring to look at the blanket. He felt Dean’s hand retract and he looked over at his boyfriend with watery blue eyes. “I’m done,” he said softly. 

“Do you feel better?” Dean asked, brushing back dark hair from Castiel’s sweaty forward. 

Castiel held up a finger and brought his fist to his mouth. He burped into it, this time glad it didn’t sound as wet or sick. “M’kay. Now I feel better.” 

 

Dean laughed and started up his car again so Castiel could get a little air conditioning. “I’m gonna throw that blanket away and then I’m taking you home. No arguments.” 

“Will you stay with me?” Castiel asked, blue eyes pleading. 

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, you can see more of my work on my Tumblr hold-my-hair-back which will have daily emeto postings once I get my shit together. :) I've also been looking for a Destiel emeto roleplaying parter on Tumblr, so please feel free to contact me. Don't be shy. :)


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